Walk the line
by Mme.Lolabelle
Summary: There's a thin line between love and hate. No matter what happens, they can't, they won't cross it. Rather dark WillxPhobos


**Here's a short one-shot. Normally I try to add a bit of light to the Will/Phobos pairing, but this time I've decided to go with the dark stuff Enjoy XD**

**BTW, I don't own W.I.T.C.H**

The other guardians complain that since Phobos returned to power, they get very little time to be normal teenagers, most of their time is spent fighting Cedric, Miranda, Rathor and Phobos' other soldiers. And they know that when we face Phobos, there's every chance we'll lose, since he has Nerissa's Seal (or the Staff of Phobos as it's now called) and the number of Hearts it contains grows by the week as he conquers more and more worlds. What bothers them the most, however, is that Phobos hasn't challenged us directly yet.

If they did a bit of detective work, they would follow a trail of breadcrumbs back to the cause of this. Me.

Phobos hasn't attacked the guardians yet because for the past six months he's been in agreement with me. The guardians and our home world is left alone, for now, as long as I turn up in his chambers regularly. Earth is safe, Phobos gets some measure of control over the guardians. Everyone's a winner.

Not even close.

Our encounters are more than sex, they are fierce battles for control. It's never gentle. His teeth marks cover my body, sometimes I'll notice dried blood around them afterwards, where he's managed to pierce my skin. I normally have wounds from fighting. Phobos will use his teeth and his tongue to re open them, the blood running down my limbs in little lines will then glide into his mouth. I'll smell is skin, fresh and clean were servants have bathed him in fragranced water and I'll destroy their handy work, my hands and lips ripping those luxuries from him. If anyone ever saw his back or sometimes his chest, they'd see multiple scratches, harsh red lines were I've cut into his flesh with my nails, occasionally so hard and with such fury that it surprises me that pieces of skin aren't buried beneath my nails . Bruises and cuts are prominent on both of our lips, dark circles adorn our eyes. Our powers don't stay at bay either. Phobos can be like a puppet master, his powers making my body move in a way that makes my muscles burn and my bones crack. My body's strength is rarely ever strong enough to break though his spells. Blood curdling screams live in the prison that is my throat, but I never let them escape. Quintessence, my element, embodied in lightening will dance at my finger tips, sending shockwaves through him that would kill any mortal man. One of his hands will run through my hair and electricity will leap to him, making him jerk violently.

The victor varies. If I've just been in a battle my blood lust will still be there and I'll take it out on him. My fury will wash over him and for all his strength, he'll fall. On those days I normally win, Phobos will stop his assault and devote himself entirely to the act, he can be almost tender at times. Almost. The pressures of home, school and the constant battles often tire me close to beyond endurance, and Phobos emerges victorious more often. I'll simply surrender in his arms and let him dominate me temporarily, my arms clinging to him, as if he's some kind of saviour rather than my adversary. My throat raw, his name fresh on my lips.

At times, I think I lose more than our sick mêlée. I think I lose myself. When I think about it, we're similar, Phobos and I. We're hard to get close to, the barriers to our hearts being as well guarded as the Crown Jewels. My mother and Taranee, my best friend, pierced the barrier, the others and Matt haven't managed to yet, maybe some of them never will. Phobos and I are both attracted to power. He's collecting more and more Hearts and I wonder how long Candracar can hold out. Whereas I grow more and more masterful at using the Heart, which is rumoured to have limitless power. Against my better judgement and knowledge that 'absolute power corrupts absolutely' I find myself shivering at the thought of that power flowing through my hands like water. We don't want to lose, neither of us consider it an option. The expression 'bend or break' doesn't apply to us. Either we are the person who bends the other, or we break. Most of all, we both want to win. That's why Phobos has never discarded me. It's why I don't stop going to Meridian.

It's frightening, to think I'm becoming like him. When I look in the mirror I expect to see a tall figure with blond hair and emotionless blue eyes looking back at me. When I speak, I think everyone will hear his deep silky tones rather than my own voice. I wonder if when he thinks, does a voice that sounds a little like mine ever invade his mind? Does he ever catch his reflection and glimpse something in it he doesn't recognise as being his own?

The guardians don't know. I don't want to hear them plead with me to stop. For now, they're safe from Phobos. I know he won't kill me. Not yet. Because he wants me to admit to him that he's won. Just like I can't destroy him until he concedes defeat.

Maybe, out of all of them Taranee knows. She can read my mind, I wonder if she's ever been brave enough to plunge into the furthest corners of my mind and find what's buried there? If she has, she has never spoken of it to me. And I won't tell her. My mother knows something's changed. I'm distant with her and I'm irritable and anger easily. The nights when I return home broken and empty, I sometimes walk into her room and curl up in arms, simply because I want someone to be gentle with me. Because sometimes I forget what a tender touch feels like.

It's a vicious cycle. We're both trapped in it. It's like a drug that we both want to quit. The problem is there's no supplement for it, no rehab centres, just our own minds, which work against us. This life is tied to us by chains of our own making. By our stubbornness, lust, want of power and an inability to admit that what we're doing is a sick version of what we both want, care, warmth and affection. This started as a desperate attempt to protect the people and things I love. That good intention has become something twisted and ugly, a bloody war for dominance over a man I have to force myself to hate. The terrifying fact is, I have no idea what it will become. But it won't be a happy ending. There won't be any Disney finish here. It will be control, bondage and darkness or insanity and death.

Afterwards, I have to drag myself to Earth, while Phobos gives in to the calm mistress, sleep. I never stay the night. Phobos wouldn't let me nor would he want me too. And that's fine with me. It's afterwards, when bodies cool and your whole being is flooded with emotion that you can fall. If I ever slipped into a dream, with his strong arms around me and my head on his chest, that would be it. I can't wake up and look into his eyes. If I did, neither of us would win.

This has to end soon. Because one day my desire to defeat him will wane and my desire to simply have him will take over. Against my better judgement and my ego, I'll simply give myself to him. He feels the same. Our encounters grow daily more violent to fuel our flames of hatred, which somehow are turning into mere embers. Phobos and I are both trying to stop something even more disastrous than our perverted struggle from occurring.

There's a thin line between love and hate, one we can never cross. Not that we'll ever admit we want to.

Fin.

**I think I might have rambled a little in this one, but what the hell. **

**RnR m'dears, you know there's nothing you like better than a little W/P lust, is there? Go on, just try and deny it **


End file.
